


Just Past the Mountains

by DarthSuki



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Kevin is Inhuman, M/M, Mates, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: You are on a road trip and your car has broken down. There's a man on the radio, his voice is sweet and happy and he calls himself Kevin. This man says he's going to come and get you, take you back to Desert Bluffs because you are his mate and he's waited solongto find you. You don't know very much about Desert Bluffs or StrexCorp or anything else this man is talking about, but there's something about him you trust.This is the story about how you find, meet and fall in love with Kevin.





	Just Past the Mountains

Stupid.

So very, totally stupid.

There is no end to the amount of stupidity in your actions right now, in this very moment. Your car has run dry of gas, you're in the middle of a desert and there is neither a phone signal nor a gas station to be found--not even the slightest flicker of life. You hadn't seen a rest stop for the last hour of driving, so it's not as if you can walk there on your own two feet if you wanted. There aren't even any cars passing by: you haven't seen another car for...you're not quite sure how long.

You're alone.

You're alone and stranded in the middle of a desert, no helped to be seen or called for. The sun is going down, dipping beneath the horizon, bringing with it the fear of certain death--there’s no emergency bag in tour car for something like this, as it's too full of clothes and silly things you thought to bring for a road trip across the country. The trip seems so far away in your mind now, so unimportant when facing the certainty of death all around you in the form of sand and scrublands, maybe even a few hazy, distant low-lying mountains.

You could do a lot of things to keep yourself safe. You could have done a lot of things to keep you safe, the past tense a heavy weight on your mind for the importance of preparation. So what do you ultimately do?

You sit.

And you wait.

It's not as if you can walk anywhere, especially not in the middle of a desert. Burning during the day, freezing at night; your only hope lay in being seen and picked up by another driver, if only to be carried to the next gas station so you could call a tow truck of some sort. Maybe it will be a nice old trucker, or maybe still it will be a small family of four plus a dog in the back seat.

You entertain yourself with these thoughts for a few moments more before you let out a sigh and decide that silence isn't something you care to deal with. You look to your phone, hoping to see if you have any songs or games or anything that could even mildly distract you from the moment, and something catches your eye:

A radio.

Specifically speaking, a radio frequency. It doesn't make any sense to see one working on your music streaming app, considering the lack of data, but you're not exactly in the mindset to question the laws of the universe in how they apply to cell phones in moments of emergency.

Desert Bluffs Radio

Maybe it was coming from a town, close enough that you can somehow pick up the signal--maybe it even meant they were close enough that you'd ultimate be rescued by the time the sun rose, a car from the town surely seeing and helping you out.

With the tap of a button, a voice spills out of your phones speakers.

“Good evening, Desert Bluffs! It’s your most productive and smiling radio host, Kevin!”

The voice is cheerful and bright, numbing away a little of the panic in your chest. “I hope you enjoyed that segment of static--that was the financial news! If you didn't hear the actual words behind the white noise, it means you haven't met your weekly quota and have been identified as needing some good ol’ re-education, courtesy of StrexCorp! They'll have you back into peak value in no time.

I would also like to mention that-”

And then, there is silence. The man simply stops talking as opposed to the station going out on your phone, leaving you oddly tense, your breath held in your lungs and eyes glued to the phone screen.

“...I'm sorry, listeners. It appears that there is someone special listening right now. Very special indeed. It caught me a little off-guard, I'm sure you all know the feeling!”

You blink at your phone and suppress a thread of unnerved fear that settles inside of your chest. It's a coincidence. Pure coincidence.

The man pauses again over the radio, leaving you again almost forgetting to breathe, your thoughts coming to a standstill until he finally, seemingly, moves to a new topic.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening, Desert Bluffs,” the voice, Kevin, speaks almost softly through the speaker. For all of a heartbeat it feels as if he’s talking directly to you. “After all, the night sky is such a rarity. All those stars and galaxies out there oh, it makes one feel so small and helpless underneath the desert sky, sitting by themselves. In their car. Listening to the sound of my voice.”

Your brain chose specifically not to listen to a portion of the man's words, and instead on how soothing they sounded, how lulling the tone itself felt against your thoughts. It feels like a gentle trickle of water over your brain, washing away the worries and leaving you with the simple desire to keep listening, you hand clutching tight to your half-dead phone.

“...I don't think I'll be on for very much longer, Desert Bluffs. Temporarily of course--nobody can get rid of me that easily! I know because people have tried, and failed--it didn't end very well for those involved!”

Another short beat of silence, another thread of fear in your chest, brain coming to the conclusion that this all might just be a nightmare, a dream fueled by long nights on the road and one too many energy drinks. You let out a held breath and finally force yourself to move, thumb inching towards the power button on your phone to turn it off and conserve power-

But the sound of the voice stops you cold.

“I'm coming for you.”

You blink. The world around you feels frozen.

“You're scared and frightened and so very alone, but don't worry my dearest mate,” Kevin's voice is low and careful and dangerous. “I'll be there to get you soon.”

And then the phone is off, the radio silent, the world plunged once more into silence. You stare at the device in your hands for a few long, unsure seconds, trying to make sense of everything you just heard. The words are still floating around your mind, seared into memory like some sort of promise you can't shake no matter how hard you try to forget. Kevin's voice echoes in your mind, leaving you to toss the phone to the empty passenger seat as if it burns you, so your eyes can drift up to the rear-view mirror, then the side mirrors, and then finally to the windshield before your face.

The fear lingers long after the air is empty of noise. You don't have much of a desire to use your phone again after that, though you come up instead with the excuse that it's solely to conserve power. You're close enough to a town anyway, someone will pass you by at some point and think to check on you--it's not as if it's normal for people to pull their car off to the side of an empty highway in the middle of the desert.

The sun has fallen completely over the horizon, spilling darkness over the scrublands and asphalt. You're not sure if you feel scared or not of the darkness, but safety and paranoia win out enough that your eyes glance about to make sure all the door are locked of the car. Though animals have yet to master the art of opening a car door, this is road trip safety 101, and...it makes you feel better.

A little bit, at least.

It won't be long before the temperature drops. You’re not quite sure how cold it can get at night in the desert, but like hell are you going to take a risk and freeze to death before someone can even find you.

You’re not equipped for any sort of emergency or overnight stay in your own car. There’s no thick blankets or rations of water or food, no extra batteries or portable charger of any sort, but you at least have some extra clothes packed away, clothes that include a couple jackets. You pick one out from the back seat after going through one of your suitcases, deciding on the one that looks the warmest.

Maybe your car will retain some of the heat of the afternoon sun. It’s a silly thought, but it’s one that offers you even the mildest hope of comfort through the night--what else exactly can you do anyway?

You find yourself staring at the front windshield for a while, off into the deep, unpolluted darkness of the night sky. When is the last time you saw the sky look so bright, so big? There are so many stars up there, painting it like a canvas of speckled glitter and washes of color that you don’t know the origin or name of.

The driver seat is adjusted but a few moments later, leaned back so you can lay somewhat comfortably, feet propped on the console and eyes staring out the window to your side. It feels weird to just….lay there, staring out into the stars, car quiet and world silent around you. Surreal, almost, almost like something out of a dream. Somewhere in the back of your head you still think you’re dreaming, maybe a little bit, and this entire thing is supposed to be showing you something important about your subconsciousness.

What in the world getting stranded in the desert is supposed to mean in terms of enlightenment upon your waking mind, you’re not sure at all, but it’s at least a little comfort when panic is constantly pressing against the back of your thoughts.

Maybe five or so minutes later you think to glance towards the passenger seat. Your phone still sits there, screen black and exactly where you had tossed it sometime before.

_“I'm coming for you.”_

You remember the man’s promise. It simmers in your thoughts and clings with tendrils of unnerved caution and curiosity, like you're swimming in the ocean, treading water at the surface, the words lurking somewhere below.

You're probably just overthinking things.

You're probably just letting the fear of the situation get the best of you. Yeah. That makes sense--no need to worry about problems that don't exist, especially when there are others needing your attention and planning.

It takes a while--minutes or hours or somewhere yet in between--but you somehow manage to fall asleep like that, face turned to the passenger seat, body curled over the driver seat and your mind trying to keep a hold on itself.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Consciousness comes to you slowly. First the knowledge of your own breathing, then the sensation of your limbs, and finally the hold of your own mind still lapsing over the last few moments of a dream you will assuredly forget.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

You take in a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs until they begin to ache. There’s a dim awareness that you’re mindly uncomfortable, body curled up in on itself sometime in the night in a way that leaves one of your arms uncomfortably over the center console and one of your legs pressed sharply against the curve of the steering wheel.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Your eyes flutter open after a few moments. The world is still dark, or at least the sun has yet to rise. You glance towards your phone instinctively to check for a time, but a groan escapes your lips when you remember that you had turned it off before you fell asleep. With another near-painful breath of air in your lungs, you finally start to make out a dull, rhythmic tapping noise. It’s close, against your car, and you can’t make out what’s causing it--it almost sounds like something on one of the glass windows.

You feel watched.

There’s no trees around to cause such a noise, certainly no wind to brush so solidly against the glass, so it leaves you feeling confusion drip into your otherwise groggy thoughts. The car is cold, all the heat from the day having been lost and leaving you shivering, curled in on yourself--the jacket has done little to help with anything.

**_Tap._ **

**_Tap._ **

**_Tap._ **

You can’t take that noise anymore. It’s starting to get into your head and stab through your thoughts.

And then it hits you:

The tapping is coming from the driver side window.

_Right above you._

Warning bells start going off in your mind before you move, body jumping up and head spinning around in a panic towards the sound. There’s a rush of adrenaline in your system, heart hammering at full speed in a feeling of utter terror that you can’t begin to comprehend or stop--it’s all instinctive fear, a terror that’s been lingering in you since the moment your car broke down and--

There’s a face in the window.

There’s a darkened face a few inches away from the window.

There’s a face with _hollow eye sockets_ and a wide, stitched, manic grin just outside the window. Moonlight can barely show the detail in it, but you certainly don’t need more than a cursory glance with wide, terror-stricken eyes to feel an instinctive gut-reaction crawl up your throat and out your mouth in a scream.

It feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only a few seconds as your brain’s haywire reaction finally settles down. You blink, and the face is still there, not a mere trick of the light or a lingering night terror from nigh-uncomfortable sleep.

And then you see the face’s mouth moving--it’s the face of a man, and he’s speaking, saying something just outside the window; he’s no longer tapping on the glass.

“Hello!”

It’s not exactly what you expect of the first words from someone who could pass as looking like a serial killer.

You merely blink at him, your body all but pushed itself back into the passenger seat, hands clutching at the nearest objects and heart still beating like a drum against your ribcage.

He blinks at you in return with those dark, empty eyes, and you could swear for the briefest moment that there was a little flicker of light in them, staring at you. The man eventually tilts his head, which is solidly on top of a body standing outside of your car.

It’s hard to make out much detail; it’s still dark, and the moon’s soft glow can only help your eyes pick up so much, as adjusted to the lack of sunlight as they are otherwise.

“Who-” you start to speak, trying not to let your words break. “Who are you? What-....what do you want?”

As if the man’s smile couldn’t get any creepier, it grows wide--you’re not sure if it’s normal for humans to smile that wide--and you catch a flash of sharp teeth behind those lips.

“My name is Kevin!” The man says, as if he’s merely exchanging soft pleasantries as the two of you meet on some random street corner and not as two complete strangers in the middle of a desert, at night, when your car is broken down and he looks like someone _out of a  goddamn horror movie._ “I’m here to pick you up.”

The words go in one ear and out the other, your brain simply can’t filter them right.

“Wh….what?”

“You’re broken down out here,” Kevin says, still so polite, eyes still a void. It’s as if he’s speaking coherently, as if he expects you to understand. “I took a little longer than expected, I suppose I misjudged how far you were from the edge of town! But I’m here, and I’m going to get you back to Desert Bluffs where you belong!”

“I-” you start, sputtering one word into the next. “I don’t--what are you talking about? Desert Bluffs--I--...I don’t think-”

You aren’t allowed a moment to put your thoughts together before you suddenly hear the car door opening (how the fuck, how the fuck that was _locked)._ and the man’s face, now unobscured, peering at you with a hand extended into the car for you to take.

“Don’t you remember?” He has the gall to sound a little offended. “You heard me on the radio a couple hours ago; I said I was coming to get you? Surely you haven’t forgotten my promise already, dearest.”

Promise?

What promise?

You stare at his hand in a dumb-struck silence, unsure what to do or say or even think as Kevin waits patiently for you.

And then, with the weight of a mountain, it hits:

**_“I'm coming for you.”_ **

The words he had spoken on the radio, the eerie promise that had chilled you to the bone. The words you had brushed off as something on an evening radio show, words spoken to hundreds, thousands of people at once. You can remember the shiver of surreal fear that had filled you at hearing them, but it’s another sort of apprehension entirely when you’re confronted with the same man who spoke them, a _stranger_ , who is still holding his hand out for you to take and presumably leave the car and go...where?

Desert Bluffs?

You’ve heard the name of that town before, yes, it was from the same radio broadcast.

Maybe you’re just….dreaming. Yeah, this is weird enough to be a dream, weird and crazy and not making any sense. You want to pinch yourself or something but can’t, eyes catching as Kevin leans in farther into the car, hand extended so it’s only half a foot or so from your chest. Though it’s obvious he’s wanting you to get out of the car, he’s making no move to force you.

Somehow, the gesture seems sweet.

…

You...take his hand in yours, eventually, after a few breaths and a decision made completely outside of your own brain. You’re not quite sure what compels you to do so after all the red flags practically _screaming_ around you, but you still find yourself being gently pulled out of the car and helped to your feet, standing so close to this Kevin that your chests are almost touching.

His smile hasn’t faded, or maybe that’s just the scars marring the sides of his lips. Maybe that’s why his smile looked so creepy mere moments ago. You’d think that being closer would reveal some detail in his eyes, maybe show that it was just a trick of light that made them look hollow but, nope, they’re completely black, orbs of pure void with only pinprick dots of light to be what you horrifyingly assume show where he’s looking. Pupils maybe? Sorta?

God, you have to be dreaming.

But at least Kevin looks happy. Very, _very_ happy.

“You don’t know how _long_ I’ve been _waiting_ to meet you!”

You feel his hands start winding around your waist, fingertips pressing gently against your lower back. Feelings erupt in your head in response to the touch, but you’re not quite sure what those feelings are. Fear? Com..fort? Safe...ty?

You decide not to think about it.

“Oh, by the Smiling God above, what luck is there that you’d break down here, just outside of Desert Bluffs and that you would tune into my very radio station!” Kevin sounds entranced, almost dreamy, his arms around you firmly enough that you can feel him rocking the two of you back and forth together. “This must be a sign that we are simply meant to be--beyond what has been vaguely communicated through prophetic, blood-soaked nightmares of course.”

He sighs and finally takes a step back from you, though one of his hands find your own and gently clasps them together. Since this is all a dream you let him do so, finding an odd warmth in the touch and an eerie comfort in his exuberant joy.

Besides, what else are you to do? Stay at your car and cook when the sun comes up?

“Are you...going to take me to Desert Bluffs?” You finally ask, voice soft and small.

Kevin perks at the sound and his eyes find yours again--despite all of the manic glee, he doesn’t seem to hold any trace of maliciousness; outside of the scarring and void eyes, he’s actually not that intimidating in your eyes, or at least he’s doing very good at not seeming like it to you.

“Of course! I’m going to take you back and get you settled--then I can come and get your things for proper in-processing through StrexCorp and make sure that you have everything you need oh, oh goodness, I’m so excited that you’re finally here!”

Some of his words don’t make a lot of sense, but you opt not to start questioning them when you’re tired and hungry and so very cold. You’re actually shivering, arms tucked around yourself with a jacket on that’s doing absolutely no good.

Kevin stops talking when he seems to notice, peering at you with an unreadable look for all but a breath of time.

“Let’s get you somewhere warm, dearest,” he says, tugging you away from your car, towards another vehicle parked just a bit behind it. The lights are on, too bright to catch the detail of it, but you’re certain that it means that the inside is already warmed up and toasty.

Kevin doesn’t force you to walk with him, he merely keeps his hand wrapped on yours, firm but  not tight. This is a rather surreal dream, but you figure it’s at least a nice one, so you let him lead you to the car, open the passenger side door and let you in.

The other car really is warm inside. It feels nice against your cold skin and body, the seat so plush and welcoming as you lay back into it. Kevin takes his place at the driver side, changing the gears with an audible little rumble and turning the car back onto the road.

“Just rest a bit,” Kevin murmurs after a little while. You feel one of his hands reach over to you and fingertips card through your hair as he stares forward onto the lit roadway. “We’ll be home in Desert Bluffs before you know it. So many years and you’re finally here. With me!”

There’s something rather contagious in the man’s joy, because you find yourself smiling a little as your eyelids droop, vision darken and eventually, you fall back into the soft, now warm embrace of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my WTNV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://wtnvwritings.tumblr.com/)


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